


Living the Dream

by LadyTheWarrior



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Heavy Angst, M/M, Typical "The Boys" Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27041053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTheWarrior/pseuds/LadyTheWarrior
Summary: "They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentionsWhy did they never mention what's real and in between?It seems the path we're on was paved with blood and sorrowNo thought about tomorrowJust part of the machineOr so it seemsWe're all living the dream"(A collection of The Boys character-study one-shots)** Post-season2**
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Wake me Up (Klara's Nightmare)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I just wanted to write something for the Boys' characters after what happened in the season 2 finale. I still don't have a storyline to make this into something solid but I may get there. 
> 
> PS. The title and the lyrics in the summary are borrowed from "Living the Dream" by "Five Finger Death Punch" band! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death to Stormfront is a kindness, she doesn't deserve!

“ich habe dich geliebt…”

There he was standing tall and proud as always, his eyes, a deep shade of ocean-blue bored into her skull as he stared at her. _Gott_ he was beautiful. Not having changed even a little bit, looking exactly as she’d first lay eyes upon him.

“…schön” she whispered, words hardly leaving her lips, taste of burned flesh, mixed with old coagulated blood burned her throat but she didn’t care, he was there. “…schließlich.” She coughed, trying to move her arms and take his hands but it was too difficult to reach, as if he stood right on the edge of another world, waiting. She couldn’t move, her body was limp and felt like a half-baked stake. Her struggles were all but to no avail. It didn’t matter though as long as he watched over her like a guardian angel. She knew he would take care of her just like how he did when he once saved her life. She often joked about it, _Ich bin dein Frankenstein._ He would know what to do. A scientist madly in love with his _most beloved_ creation.

“Hilf… mir, Frederick?” She tried to say but her tongue felt too big in her mouth. She wanted to pull him into a tight embrace. She wanted him so badly, to heal her wounds. But she couldn’t. Every fiber of her body screamed in pain, excruciating unbearable pain wrapped tightly around her body like a thick cotton cover, not letting her breathe. Tears mixed with blood and dirt stung her eyes as she begged for her lover’s hand, “ Bitte…”.

Just a little bit further, if he could just bent. Frederick never bent though he should have now, if he really wanted her. And surprisingly that would have been enough, she could have all she always yearned for, cleansing her of all the anger and hatred that stabbed her tender soul. She had it enough with the cruelty. With every aliases she’d been called for so long. Stormfront, Liberty… that was enough. She just wanted to go home. To Chloe. To be Klara Risinger again. A wife. A mother. She wanted to go back to that apple tree, holding Chloe up to the branches, to watch her taste the sweetness rolling on her tongue as Frederick joined them and showered them both in little kisses. Even if it all rarely happened. She wanted Frederick to take her back, that was the only thing that mattered to her now.

But Frederic was cold and brutal. He had always been and that was why she loved him so much. However, now he just stood there as if he enjoyed watching her suffer and beg for mercy. “ Oh Frederick, bitte… bitte…”

The smell of blood was thick in the air, joined by what she could only presume was what fried brain smelled like. Moments passed and it mixed with a smell of faeces. Horrible coughs attacked her lungs as she felt acidic vomit boiling in her throat, it was in that moment that his hand finally touched the side of her crisp face, holding her neck so she wouldn’t choke on whatever was rushing through her esophagus.

Klara though was just too caught up by the feeling of the hand that held her to care at all. Strong fingers ran over her left cheek and grabbed the back of her neck then a voice rough enough to be Frederick’s but too foreign to sound familiar at all spoke in a low tone “It’s alright Klara…they will make you feel better.”

She wanted to ask, to make sure it was really him, it was too dark to see and her throat felt too tight to let the words out, she gasped as pain took over again, making her fall into unconsciousness. 


	2. Darkness Settles In (Butcher's Sorrow)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butcher's drinking away his sadness at a pub when an expected company arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to "Darkness settles in" by " five finger death punch" and I thought wow this sounds like a really good song for Billy Butcher! And then this chapter was born. 
> 
> Sorry, it's got out of my hand and gone on too long. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it though

It had been years… years since he had last cried. He couldn’t exactly remember when the last time was when he felt such an urge. He was always such a reserved guy when it came to things like this. Always holding everything in, despair, sadness, sorrow. Until it burst, like a bubble and poured down the rain of aggression destroying everything and everyone on its way in an unforgivable angry flood.

One second he was sitting in a crowded shitty pub, downing shot after shot of whiskey the next he was back in the forest again, holding Becca’s neck just to stop the flow of blood as his vision was blurring with waves of grief. The salty release calmly dripped on his lips so he could taste his own sorrow.

Bitter unbearable pain squeezed his heart as he watched life fading away from her eyes. He didn’t want to remember. _Her bittersweet smile, her voice as he begged him._ But memories forced themselves mercilessly into his head. _His promise that he would take care of Ryan._ He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to be left reminiscing and indulging with the empty glasses on the counter, mocking him, leaving the hole inside his chest deeper than it already was.

He felt empty, his hollowness a shell, holding in a thousand ocean of tears or worse a thousand pieces of glass wedged in between his soul and body. Before all these, Billy was caged in hell, surrounded by eternal flames, burning him from the inside out. Waiting, waiting for something to happen, someone to come to give him the release he had always desired. He would be lying to say that he was after justice; the last thing Billy has ever cared about was justice, _heh, what a shitload of crap_ , all he ever wanted was to set the world on fire so that everybody would feel what he was always feeling.

 _Now?_ He didn’t feel anything at all and that scared him the most.

Burning through another shot of whiskey accompanied by a pint of black beer, Billy felt like the earth rocking beneath him, his mind slowly drifting in and out like the tide as he sensed a hand resting on his shoulder, dragging him out of his drowning misery.

“Butcher?” Billy raised a brow, looking up puzzled at the lanky young man. It took him several seconds to realize who it was. “Jesus, you look like shit.”

“Hey kid.” He waved before gripping the counter so he wouldn't lose his balance. “How are you keepin’, ey?”

He watched as Hughie took a stool next to him and ran his hands through his hair, trying so hard to give him a genuine smile. “ It’s uh…good… good yeah… how are you?”

“Well you ain’t blind, are you?” shrugged Billy before yelling at the bartender to bring him another pint.

“Yeah…no… I can see that, it’s just… well, you called?”

“Did I?” Downing another shot followed immediately with a glass of beer, he replied, “Honestly I don’t have a single fucking clue why.”

It was a sight really. Hughie had seen Butcher angry, excited, and somewhat happy if you count deranged laughter while committing a grisly Supe murder but never this drunk and… depressed. He felt a twinge of sadness in the pit of his stomach as he decided he would never want to see the man like that ever again. He looked around, the pub was completely empty, he knew they wouldn’t let them stay there any longer, he just needed to find a way to get Butcher out of there without pissing him off. It was tricky really since he could never predict what Butcher would do and he wasn’t exactly eager to get punched in the face again by the bigger man. So when he spoke again he tried to tread wisely,” Okay, obviously not an emergency then.”

“Nah… not really.” Billy pinched the bridge of his nose, bringing up his glass to his lips before realizing it was empty again, he threw Hughie a croaked smile,” Now I call this an emergency” He laughed and patted the slender man heavily on the back, “Here let me buy you a beer.”

“Well I don’t know man,” replied Hughie, still very careful in choosing the right words,” It’s past midnight and you’re obviously too inebriated to drive.” Hughie paused just enough to take a good look at Butcher’s expression, no frown or pressing lips, well that was good, since Butcher was usually very expressive when he was angry,” You know Butcher… I don’t think it’d be very smart of me to drink too.”

“It won’t be smart of you to keep talking like a fucking mother hen when I’m obviously in the mood to shove this glass in somebody’s face.” _Woah, that was unexpected._ Hughie had to physically put some space between himself and the man. “Bring me another shot.” He winced at the man’s loud voice as the bartender leaned on the counter.

“I think you’ve had enough buddy, time to leave.” The bald bartender had a gruff voice; he was already cleaning off the few dirty glasses piled up on the counter and didn’t look very thrilled to serve them more drinks. Hughie was quick to jump on his feet as he took a quick glance at Butcher. The man was so drunk he couldn’t sit straight.

“Yeah… yeah, we’re leaving, Come on big guy.” Said Hughie, moving closer to the Butcher to grab his arm when as if getting poked by a sharp knife the bigger man jolted upright and pulled away from Hughie

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” He yelled, staring directly into Hughie’s eyes. There he was, the dangerous man he came to know for the past few years. And it scared him, really, the uncertainty, the unpredictability in those dark eyes. Hughie was oblivious before but he could see now what Annie realized in a matter of seconds upon meeting Butcher, how alike those eyes were to a certain Supe they all came to hate and fear.

The stare didn’t last long though, as Billy turned to the bartender and spat poisonously ” What did you say to me?”

Having had enough, the bartender, grabbed a baseball bat from under the counter, “I said you have to leave, you’ve been sulking here for the past few hours, bounce!”

Butcher smiled darkly, eyes flashing dangerously as he threw himself on the counter and grabbed the man by the collar then pulled him harshly and hit his head to the counter.

Shocked by what was happening, Hughie looked at the bartender’s fluttering eyes and bloody forehead screaming, “That’s enough!”, but the man was deaf to his cries while he grabbed the bartender’s neck and banged his head again and again against the counter, “Butcher please!” He wouldn’t stop and Hughie was scared now he would just kill the poor guy so he grabbed Butcher’s arm with all the strength he had and pulled him away yelling “Billy!”

He stopped then, staring. His eyes devoid of emotion but Hughie wasn't going to let go that easy, he grabbed his collar, screaming, “Are you fucking done!” He was the one angry at Butcher now. “You asshole!” He shouted uncontrollably before throwing a heavy punch directed to the older man’s face.

It was more powerful than the last time, enough to give him a good split lip and draw blood. Hughie glanced at the bartender who clutched his bloody head now and was dialing 911 on his phone. A part of him was happy that the guy was still alive and conscious; another was still pissed at Butcher for getting them both into trouble again. He could just leave him here and let him deal with the cops on his own but looking at the man’s miserable state—

“Let’s just get the hell out of here man,” 

The cold air slapped them both in the face as they walked to Hughie’s car. Hughie had to take a deep breath, thanks to Butcher he felt like utter shit now. Even though the punch was well-deserved. “Where’s your car?” he asked Butcher who was on his steps.

“I hitchhiked.” He answered reluctantly, closing his eyes and suddenly doubling over, vomit splashing on the stony pavement.

“Great!” Hughie huffed, getting closer to the man and patting on the back. “You better now?”

He tensed but took the cue when the man raised his hand and took a step back. It took Butcher a while to stand straight and wipe his jacket. When he turned to look at Hughie, he looked extremely pale and sickly and a big purple bruise was forming on his cheek. He rubbed it gently and threw him a half-smile, “You’ve got some strong punch kid.”

Hughie relaxed at his comment a bit, after all, it meant they were still good, “Let’s go before the cops show up.”

***

They didn’t have an exact destination and the drive was mostly silent. Hughie thought about turning on the radio since awkward silence made him anxious and fidgety but he decided against it at the last minute. He could just stop thinking about the drunk man that was sitting next to him and enjoy the night drive out of the city. Then again, it was hard to ignore Butcher’s strong aura. The younger man wouldn’t admit it but seeing Butcer so lost and broken, pained his heart. He really wanted to do something about it, then again—

“When I was 13, I used to steal my father’s car,” Butcher suddenly said; his voice husky as if he hadn’t had spoken in a long time. Hughie took a long look at the man’s sunken face but he didn't acknowledge his puzzled stare, like he wasn’t in the car at all, lost in another time and place. He didn't intrupt the man as he spoke again, “ He uh… he had this old red convertible Chevy bomber for work and we started sneaking out of our room, at night after everybody had gone to sleep and driving the three miles out of the city. I usually would stop at a gas station, so I could buy a cigarette for meself and a chocolate ice cream for him… I’d say the hell with it if the cunt’s goin to beat us to death tomorrow then why not live a lil’ tonight,”

Hughie’s chest tightened at the revelation. Butcher would have never talked about his past with him when sober. It took him forever to open up about Becca. Now though, it was different and Hughie wasn’t going to pass on the opportunity to learn more, “He?” He asked although he was already suspecting who Butcher was talking about.

“Lenny, my brother.”

“You … you never told me that you had a brother.”

“Yeah was a good lad.” Billy rubbed his eyes as if trying to hold back the rush of emotions “ fuck it…” He turned and looked outside the window “He killed himself. “

Hughie gasped in shock. Thanks to Butcher’s aunt, he already knew about what happened to Lenny but _this_. He did not expect this. “I’m sorry,”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, it was a long time ago.” Billy shook his head, “ You know I promised to protect him and… well I failed, just like how I failed to protect Becca.”

“You shouldn’t be blaming yourself.” Hughie reasoned,” You did everything you could. If it wasn’t for you we would have all been dead,” He smiled then,” I would have never met Annie.”

“Well I’m fucking glad for you Hughie.” Billy smirked before closing his eyes again,” You know… you’re right I’m an asshole. I told you how you always need to cling onto someone, the thing is… fuck me, I’m not any saint myself, and I cling to this idea of …vengeance.” The car moved more slowly now, on a narrow country road, into darkness. Agricultura smells drifted into the car as Billy sighed, completely oblivious to his surroundings. “And it isn’t because of Becca either, I keep telling myself that it is but… what happened tonight…I don't think I can ever control myself.”

“But you stopped beating that guy to death tonight, right?”

“I don’t know... I wouldn’t have stopped if you weren’t there—”

More silence followed by Butcher’s confession as Hughie started to smile to himself. He really wanted to learn more about Billy, about this urge, this demon inside that supposedly was too hard to get a leash on it and to control. This monster that could get them all killed someday. He wanted so badly to trust Butcher and to him to trust him. He wanted to know how was he the only one having this effect on him? and why? Was this only a drunk conversation or did Butcher really feel that way about him, he opened his mouth to ask, to perhaps figure out the man beneath all that wreckage of rage and pain but the deep exhales stopped him from doing so, he looked over at the older man, soundly asleep with his head against the window. Perhaps another time when they were both soberer, more prepared for the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay no... I don't feel satisfied with it  
> I've become hella rusty  
> so sorry


End file.
